


Move Me, Baby

by captainflintsjacket



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, Minor Angst, based on a hozier song, tomfoolery and shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainflintsjacket/pseuds/captainflintsjacket
Summary: Based on an anon request: "I know a lot of people request “what if this character walked in on the reader singing” but how about instead they walked in on the character pretending to be a composer for instrumental stuff" and also the song "Movement" by Hozier





	Move Me, Baby

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, kid,” Tony said, sliding his sunglasses onto his shirt, fingers brushing the spot where his arc reactor had been. He dropped his hand just as quickly. 

“I know, Mr. Stark, sir, but it wasn’t my fault this time. I-“

“Relax, Mr. Parker. This isn’t the Breakfast Club yet,” Mr. Davis said, folding his hands over his desk. 

Peter furrowed his brow, looking from Tony to the principal. “What does this have to do with breakfast?”

“Unbelievable,” Tony muttered, shaking his head at Peter before turning back to the principal. He crossed his legs, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “I’ve got business I need to get back to, and I’m sure you need to get back to molding the minds of the future, so why don’t we cut to the chase? Why am I here?”

“Mr. Parker and his friends decided to use our science lab for an experiment.”

“At a science academy? Preposterous.”

Mr. Davis tensed, lips pressed together in a tight scowl. “They blew the lab up.”

Tony turned to Peter who offered a half-hearted smile and thumbs up in return. Tony closed his eyes before turning back to the principal. “Part of the scientific process. You think I’d be where I am now without blowing a few things up?” Tony tried not to dwell on his word choice, remembering the heat of the desert. The faces staring up at him.

“Mr. Parker said it was an experiment conducted on your behalf as part of his internship. Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind keeping your experiments to your own lab.”

“Done,” Tony said, standing. His sunglasses were already in his hand. “We good here?”

“That depends. Is Mr. Parker going to pay for the damages?”

“Don’t you guys have insurance or something?” Mr. Davis didn’t respond, so Tony clipped his glasses back to his shirt and began fishing through his pocket. He pulled out a checkbook. “Fine. How much? Half a million?” Peter nearly choked as Tony tore the check off and handed it to the principal. “My donation for the year. Anything else?” 

“Since you’re so keen on enriching the lives of the students, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind coming to give them a little lesson on lab safety?” 

Tony pulled his keys out of his pocket, twisting the ring between his fingers. “Educational videos are more Cap’s thing.” With a smile back at the principal, Tony pointed at Peter with a simple “You. Come.” and walked out of the office into the crowded hallway.

“You blew up the science lab?” Tony crossed his arms, feeling every bit his age.

“It was an accident, Mr. Stark, sir. Ned and I were trying to work on our project for the science fair and –“

“And what? You decided to make explosives?”

“No, well. Not on purpose. We were trying to make carbonite. Like from that old movie The Empire Strikes Back.”

“Christ,” Tony muttered not for the first time that day. He cocked his head, eyes pressed shut as if that alone would transport him away from this moment. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean of course not, Mr. Stark. It won’t happen again, sir, I promise.”

Tony’s eyes must have rolled all the way to the back of his skull as he walked away from Peter, turning and crashing straight into someone. Books and coffee scattered across the floor, a string of curses joining the chorus of chuckles that rose in the hallway.

“Here,” Tony said, dropping to his knees in front of you, “Let me help you with that.” You reached for a book at the same time and your eyes met. He was transfixed.

“Thank you,” you smiled, face freezing when you registered the man in front of you. You stood too quickly, almost losing balance again until his hand caught your arm. He handed you the book, trying to come up with something to say but finding none of his usual wit. Somehow, you’d taken up every inch of his brain with those two words. “Can I have my book back, Mr. Stark?”

He cleared his throat and handed it to you. “Tony, please. Are you okay? I didn’t even…see you there.” Tony kicked himself. Didn’t even see you there? What was he thinking? Especially when you were all he could see now.

“I’m fine. In fact, you probably did me a favor. Coffee in the teacher’s lounge sucks.”

“I’ll bring you some more,” Tony said. He knew it was too fast as soon as he saw the corners of your mouth twitch up.

“It’s really fine, Mr. Stark you don’t have to.”

“Tony,” he said, reaching a hand out to stop you from walking away. “And I want to. When’s your lunch?”

“Already over, Mr. Stark, but thank you.” You moved his arm gently, offering Peter a high five as you passed him.

“Who was that?”

“The music teacher.” Peter stood next to Tony, thumbs hooked in his backpack straps.

“You never mentioned you had a hot music teacher.”

Peter furrowed his brow as he doubletake from Tony to you. “Ms. Y/L/N? She’s like a million years old. I mean, she’s gotta be at least as old as you.” Tony didn’t respond, simply stared down at Peter until he looked back up at him. “I gotta run,” Peter said, voice an octave too high, “to…to class. I have class. See you later, Mr. Stark.”

Tony returned the next morning with coffee in hand, pausing in his car, then on the front steps, then again in the hallway. He wondered what he was doing. He knew nothing about you except that he wanted you in his life, but would you feel that way about him? Money and possessions weren’t a replacement for a personality, and Tony didn’t know who he was anymore outside the nightmares and the suit.

He walked through the halls a haunted man, iron exterior but hollow inside. How often he’d imagined what it would have been like to be a child again. To worry about robotics tournaments and dances and secret kisses under the stairwell. To give up the weight on his shoulders and soul for even a minute, but he new he couldn’t. He trudged on, not even sure where he was going until he glanced up at an open door.

His breath caught in his throat. His heart fluttered. Briefly, Tony wondered if he was having another panic attack and quickly decided he didn’t care because there you were. Standing alone in the music room like a statue come to life, every curve of your body carved by the gods themselves. A work of art his hands would only ruin as they had ruined so many things before you.

As if pulled by the weight of his stare, you turned. Tony tensed, brain already searching for a joke about why he was standing in the middle of an empty high school hallway staring at you, but you didn’t notice him. Your eyes were closed, lips pressed in a soft smile so serene Tony wondered how he could have ever felt so hopeless when there was such beauty in the world.

He watched you then, as your arms slid through the air like the branches of a willow tree dancing in the wind. Every noise and every light and everything that wasn’t you fell away, as if you were both underwater. Tony was drowning and each dip of your arms gave him breath. He watched your hands like a stray dog watches a steak. He was a starved man. Starved for your touch, for your love.

A gasp from your lips brought his eyes to your face. It was contorted, concentrated. More passionate than anything he’d seen in all his years on Earth. You breathed life out into the music and into him. Tony wondered, briefly, if this is how you would love him. Gently. Beautifully. Perfectly.

He braved a step forward, careful not to break your concentration as you pulled your baton in a low arc in front of you, pulling Tony’s heartstrings with it. He was your puppet. No. He was the Tin Man and you were Dorothy, helping him find his heart and his purpose with every second of music you conducted. Music he couldn’t hear but could feel vibrating in his bones.

In that moment, Tony knew he would give you anything. He would give you every atom of himself if only so he could rebuild and regrow and give himself to you all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on Tumblr @trade-baby-blues


End file.
